Welcome travelers. The purposefully lost, the jaded anarchists, and the bloodied knuckled pacifists. Welcome friends, new and old, the usuals, the newcomers, the frequenters, and the casually late.
Welcome to the travelers, the runaways, vagabonds, commuters, and the lost. The strangers, the outsiders, locals, and passerbys.
Welcome to the ones life dealt a bad hand, and with everything they love riding on the table at stake. Who clings to unfavorable odds like a life raft stranded in the ocean, with unwavering, unabating, faithful hope.
Welcome to the ones with calloused palms. With bloody fingertips, and chipped nails, from clawing at the bottom of the barrel.
Welcome the ones running on fumes, sustained by air alone, who keep moving forward, their eyes toward the horizon pointed to the sun, taking one step after another.
We’re going nowhere in a hurry, and we’re seeing all the sights along the way.
To the ones ready to run, with passports in their bed stands. The ones who whisper the mantra “one day” over and over in their sleep.
To the ones with cracked open piggy banks, paying unexpected debts off with their unfulfilled dreams.
Welcome to the ones with whole other worlds in their heads. With un-reflected light in their eyes somehow resonating from nothing but themselves.
To the ones taking deep breaths, and to the ones with exasperating sighs. To the ones gasping for air- their mouth just above water.
Welcome to the ones waiting in the morning at their mailbox for bad news. The unbeaten rolling with the punches.
Welcome to the hurt empathetic ones, who still leave chinks in their armor for others pain to seep in- left saturated by suffering, they stand unquenchable.
Welcome to the movers and the shakers, the still growers, and the painfully static ones watching un-boiling pots.
We’re traveling a long stretch of road between nowhere and nowhere, and we’re stopping at all the tourist traps- going nowhere in no hurry.
Welcome to the penny-pinchers putting money where their mouths are. Giving pennies for their thoughts.
To the ones not born yesterday, and the ones as old as lows hills. To the jack of all trades, and the masters of none. To ones with bites worse their barks, to the ones who bit off more than they could chew, to the ones barking up the right trees.
Welcome to the ones already passed and covered in dust, and to those left standing on the curb soaking wet, and those in the fast lane driving through puddles.
Welcome to my little corner of the internet. My hole in the wall. My hole in the hedgerow.
Hole In The Hedgerow 
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